


Dresses and Dreary

by XxTwistedEverAfterxX



Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 16:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2699759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxTwistedEverAfterxX/pseuds/XxTwistedEverAfterxX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There always came a point when someone's comment went a little too far, where their insult dug a little too deep. Tommy prided himself on his resilience, but even he had a breaking point. Alfred is there to pick up the pieces when it happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dresses and Dreary

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was a prompt from Tumblr when I was taking requests. If you would like to submit a prompt for me to fill, I do open requests at random times on my Tumblr, so go check them out there, as not all prompts will be uploaded to my Fanfiction account!

It was already pouring rain, verging on hailing with dangerous bolts of lightning that made the dark indigo clouds glow violet in the wrathful skies, illuminating the cracked pavement below, the half bent poles of signs and lamp posts and all their graffiti and scratches, the near-bare dying trees that were being thrashed about by strong gale force winds, and  _his_  silhouette, curled over with knees to his chest and head resting atop of them.

Hewas already crying when Alfred found him, but he could only tell once he approached, his loud wails and hysterical sobs muffled by the cracks of thunder and the rush of powerful air currents. The atmosphere was charged like the clouds, crackling and ominous, and Alfred stared wide eyed, glasses low on his nose, useless in the storm.

Tommy was one of dramatics. Every little thing was something worth complaining about in petulant tones, and nobody paid those any mind because they all knew that he was complaining solely for the sake of complaining and to rile them up. It was how he joked. Even more serious things were played up to have others worry less over him, or they were stuffed under a rug and never mentioned, brought up, or hinted at; it was just the type of man he was. He was broken, faulty, and with enough problems to be able to list them both chronologically and alphabetically and have them take up a small novel. He faked being wounded over little insults, and disappeared for nights on end only to return with the same relaxed and slouched posture with droopy eyes and lazy grin that was missing a tooth in the upper left of his jaw. Where he went, nobody knew, and nobody asked, because he came back the same as always, and never showed weakness, nor did anyone ever ask him to.

So to see him curled up, his clothing tattered and hanging from his body, howling like an animal atop a metal slide of an old playground in down town suburbia mid thunderstorm, had Alfred petrified and sick to the stomach and sprinting to close the distance between them.

"Tommy!"

Alfred's voice was lost to the other's screams of heart wrenching grief, the cracks of thunder overhead, and a burst of wind that left him staggering, his legs snapping to a boxing stance for stability, heels and balls of his feet digging into the ground through sopping wet sneakers to try and keep upright. The darker skinned American lets himself be battered by the elements, but it was dangerous.

"Tommy!" he screamed again, urgency creeping up into his voice, his uniform soaked through and chilling him right to the bone, expression distorted with a deep terror as he approached the slide, feet sinking nearly an inch with every step into the shaved bark that littered all playgrounds, now flooded with rainwater, "Tommy! Get down from there!"

No response came to Alfred but the other's hands rising, his fingers curled like claws and shaking hard, gripping powerfully at red-brown hair and yanking hard, followed by more wails. The rain beared down on them like a heavy wall, and Alfred lifted his arms to protect his face and head as sticks and branches, snapped off by the storm, flew past his head sharply from the nearby trees, grunting as they slashed at his clothes and struck his body on the way down.

"Tommy!"

He was hardly a metre away, and finally— _finally_ —Tommy lifted his head, dark crimson eyes wide, pupils dilated, and his tears mixing in with the rain, though his expression and the bloodshot colour of the whites of his eyes was enough to give away his hysteria, had Alfred not also heard the sobs and screams.

"Pork chop?"

Tommy's voice was cracked; barely enough to be heard over the abusive weather, but it carried down the slide and to the blond at the bottom whose arms lowered slowly, bright blue eyes squinting up through the rain at him.

"What're ya doin' here?"

"That's my question!" Alfred shouted back, stepping closer, reaching the base of the jungle gym and the mini platform Tommy was seated upon, the shredded fabric of his dress soggy and flapping in the wind, "Get down from there! It's made of _metal_! Don't you know what'll happen if lightning hits it?"

"Hopefully fry my brains."

A frown deepened Alfred's brow as Tommy went back to yanking at his hair, expression tormented, fat tears visibly streaming down his face at a new onslaught of grief, and Alfred reached up, grasping onto his dress through the bars of the platform meant for safety, though they were anything but in this weather.

"Come down.  _Please_. Come with me, Tommy. I'll take you to my home, please, Tommy, I'm terrified right now—what's gotten into you?" Alfred demanded, the fear so real at seeing such a new, raw and vulnerable emotion on the other's face, unused to it.

"I'm the worst… I really am the absolute  _worst_."

"Who told you that?"

"What?"

"Who the  _fuck_  told you that?" Alfred bellowed, fury visible on his face, lips curled back so that his teeth were bared and his gums were visible, Tommy's head lifting a bit more, a flash of lightning illuminating his face—bruised and swollen along his cheek, a split open upper lip, and dark fingerprint marks around his throat, and Alfred felt his blood boil.

"Everyone's been sayin' it. I ain't stupid," Tommy snapped, face scrunching up before he dropped his head back to his knees, "Let go, Golden Boy, I don't want ya to get electrocuted too."

"I'm not letting go!" Alfred barked back, grasping to the bars and swung his foot up onto the slide, clambering up as best as he could on the slippery surface, Tommy jerking back reflexively, visibly tense as Alfred heaved himself up before him and then lunged forward.

Though Tommy tried to avoid it, tried to scramble away, it was clear that injuries prevented him from doing so, tangling in the tatters of his dress that were caught by Alfred's knee, the shriek of tearing fabric at the tugs silenced by the storm. Alfred's arms caught Tommy, dragging him close and wrapping him in a powerful hug, holding the violently trembling frame close to his body. His skin was like ice. Wearing a torn summer dress and no shoes in a mid-autumn storm would have been cold even indoors, but with the freezing rain pelting them from above, Alfred began to fear for the other's health.

"I'm not letting go," Alfred repeated right into Tommy's ear, kneeling so that his legs pinned one of Tommy's thighs between them, "I won't ever let go. You're so precious to me, Tommy. I won't let go. So climb down with me."

"G-Get down from here! You could die if lightnin' hits!" Tommy argued, weakly trying to struggle free, chest heaving against Alfred's.

"So could you! Please, whatever it is, whatever they said, whoever did this to you, we can fix it! So come down and come home with me!" Alfred begged, fingers gripping tight at the other's bare back, feeling his vertebrae like bumps poking out with how his back was curved, "I don't want you to die, so stop this!"

"Everyone else does! I'm fuckin'  _trash_! I'm a fuckin' mess. My father abandoned me, and my mother loved pills and turnin' tricks more. They're all right… I'm a worthless, unwanted, emotionally stunted, fuckin' worthless piece of  _shit_!"

"Don't listen to them," Alfred shouted, clutching tighter to Tommy, "Don't you  _ever_  listen to them!"

The passion behind Alfred's voice had Tommy flinching, and his body jerked with heavy sobs, Alfred's muscles trembling slightly, body tensing at a crack of thunder.

"You mean the world to me. I  _need_  you. I  _love_  you, Tommy, god damn it, I'll beat the hell out of the bastards who're saying this shit, because it ain't right! But  _please_ , come down from here and come home with me so I can get you into a warm shower, feed you some vegetable soup, get you dressed and talk. I'll buy you a brand new dress tomorrow because you look  _so lovely_  in them, but please… don't listen to the assholes that did this to you!"

Hesitantly, and oh so gently, Tommy's arms lifted, tattooed and bulked and bare, one of the sleeves of the dress torn and hanging around his bicep, and wrapped them around Alfred's neck and shoulders, clutching to his coat and burying his face further into the crook of Alfred's neck. Body shaking hard, Tommy began to sob loudly again, his fingers like claws digging into the fabric and Alfred's back to keep him close, clutching onto him like a lifeline, and Alfred let him, kissing along sopping wet reddish hair by Tommy's temples and holding him just as tightly.

"Come on… I'll take you home now."

Tommy nodded, heaved breaths rasping in the air between them.

"I can't walk."

"I'll carry you. I won't drop you or let you down. Trust me."

Gently, Alfred's arms slid down the broad expanse of Tommy's back and over the slightest curve of his rear and under thighs, encouraging them to wrap around his waist before he lifted them both up with a grunt, standing, a crack of lightning illuminating their shadows against the creaking old playground equipment, stretching their silhouettes long and thin down the slide. With careful steps, Alfred made his way back down the steps behind them, cautious not to slip or stumble on the wet surface, and the moment his feet hit the soaked shaved bark, he let out a shaky breath, clutching tighter to Tommy who was wrapped around him, still grieving against his neck.

There had to have been something deeper said, something worse done to cause the darker skinned American to react like this; a sensitive topic about his race, his sexual preference, his choice of clothes, his family history, or his personal problems and issues— _something_ , but Alfred would get to the bottom of that when he brought the broken American in his tattered magenta dress home and cared for him a little. At the very least, Tommy was willing to be taken back to safety, and for now, that was all that mattered as he carried them back to the cracked pavement, and down the street he had sprinted down in his desperate search, both chilled frozen, but with the promise of love to warm them waiting their return home.


End file.
